


First Encounters

by shadow_djinni



Series: All The Stars Aligned [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: An Inauspicious Start to an Amazing Relationship, Backstory, First Meetings, Galra Empire, Haxus Should Probably be Less Quick to Judge, Implications of Child Soldiers, Sendak is a Genuinely Unhappy Individual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 01:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12288291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_djinni/pseuds/shadow_djinni
Summary: Sendak and Haxus meet for the first time in a cruiser's commissary.  It does not go well.





	First Encounters

The first time they meet is in a ship’s commissary.

Haxus is fresh out of basic, but already older than most new recruits by close to seventeen cycles.  His time pursuing higher education in computer engineering and mechanics has paid off, though--he’s the cruiser’s new tech specialist rather than a mere foot soldier, but that doesn’t make his first time in the commissary any easier.  The ship’s sparse crew clusters in groups around long, narrow tables--a pair of foot soldiers at the end of one, a trio he half-recognizes from his tour of the bridge and the engine rooms, a tall and heavy-scaled Galra in lieutenant’s uniform off on his own, bowed over a data pad.

He almost overlooks the soldier in the corner, but then the Galra shifts and catches Haxus’s eye.  His heart skips a beat, then starts up again going double-time.

The Galra in the corner is  _ easily _ one of the largest Haxus has ever seen.  It’s impossible to guess at his height while he’s sitting down, but even in profile it’s obvious that his shoulders are nearly twice as broad as Haxus’s.  He’s appealing too, with large, well-shaped ears and soft lavender fur curling over the collar of his uniform.  Elegant cheekbones, strong brow, neatly-arched crest--some subspecies would consider him classically beautiful.  Haxus generally doesn’t go for cold-world Galra, too much fur to put up with, but he can’t help staring.

A hand claps down onto his shoulder, and Haxus nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Haxus, good to see you!”  Of course.  It’s Plytox, the junior communications officer, and the only person onboard Haxus actually knows on sight.  “We were starting to worry you got lost.”

Haxus snorts.  “Come on, the ship’s not  _ that _ large.”  Well, that and the last several movements of basic were held on a light cruiser exactly like this one.  He knows cruisers of this class like the back of his hand.

“True, true,” Plytox says, grinning, and drops his arm around Haxus’s shoulders and begins guiding him over to the counter.  Haxus is...well, less than enthused about the rations.

He also can’t take his eyes off the soldier in the corner.

He bumps his elbow against Plytox’s ribs.  “Who’s  _ that _ ?” he asks, and tips his head.

Plytox barely glances, but he goes almost ashen under his scales and hikes a shoulder.  “Quit looking at him,” he says, grabbing a tray.  “You’ll piss him off.”

“You’re not answering my question,” Haxus says dryly.

“I can’t believe nobody warned you about the resident monster yet.  Haxus, if you’re as smart as you look, you’ll avoid that one at all costs.”

It has the opposite effect of the one Plytox clearly intended.  Haxus jabs him in the ribs again and tips his ears, intrigued.  “Oh?  Why would I do  _ that _ ?  And who  _ is _ he?”

Plytox scowls.  “Fine.  That’s Sendak.”  His head tilts, and he adds, almost nonchalantly, “I can’t believe they forgot to brief you on oblates in basic.”

Haxus goes cold and almost drops his tray.  Oblate.  Well, then.  He certainly  _ had _ been briefed on oblate protocols back in basic, towards the beginning of the cycle.  He’d almost quit right then and there.  That the military chose to enroll orphaned cubs--early conscription, they called it--had left him sick to his stomach.  The briefing hadn’t gone much in-depth on what they  _ did _ with those cubs to hone them into soldiers, and quite frankly, Haxus didn’t want to find out.  He takes his tray and trails Plytox over to the trio, a group of his friends by the way they greet him.

Then he risks one last glance at the stranger--at Sendak--and finds him staring back.

The illusion of Sendak’s beauty is shattered.  A long, ragged scar trails down the right side of his face, arching from crest to cheekbone, black-violet and a few decafebes old at most.  His right eye is  _ gone _ \--totally empty, the socket hideously exposed, the fur around it tattered and sticking up at odd angles.  Haxus gapes.  Sendak’s remaining eye burns into him, welding him in place.  Haxus wishes, suddenly, that Sendak had never turned his face, because he’s never seen someone so striking and so utterly ruined.

They’re frozen for endless heartbeats, just staring.  Then Sendak looks away, standing up to clear his tray, and Haxus can breathe again.

“I think avoiding him may be in my best interest,” Haxus murmurs to Plytox, earning a nod of agreement.  “He looks like he might take my throat out with his teeth.”

* * *

Sendak hadn’t even met the new tech specialist yet, and he already hated him.  If he was going to be honest with himself, he’d hated the stranger the moment he heard they were  _ getting _ a new tech spec--the last one had  _ hated _ him with every fiber of his being, and more than a few blasters had died in his hands or almost blown up on him, and his comms often failed to work in the field.

It was like he’d  _ tried _ to trigger a breakdown or something.

Sendak had gritted his teeth and borne it.  He’d already been reassigned twice for fighting with his crewmates, and he’d gotten his warning on the last one--another fight, and that was it.  They’d put him down like a rabid animal.  He wasn’t ready to die, not yet.

So he’d been shamelessly avoiding the new tech specialist since he’d arrived shipside four vargas previous.  He’d gotten a glimpse when he boarded, and had not been impressed.  Small, slight, short blue-grey fur and sharp gold eyes--Sendak could have snapped his spine like a twig.  

_ Bad thoughts _ , he reminded himself.   _ We’re not breaking anyone.  Not if we can help it. _

He’d been successful right up until the tech spec walked into the commissary.  Sendak froze and tried to make himself unnoticeable.   _ Keep your head down.  Don’t look at him, don’t look, don’t pick a fight, don’t give him a reason to start one _ .

The tech spec’s eyes bored into him.  Sendak stayed stone-still.   _ Don’t even breathe. _

“Haxus!” Plytox exclaimed, and Sendak clenched his fists so tightly his claws dug in, fitting right into scarred divots on his palm-pads.  He wasn’t drawing his own blood yet, though.

His chance at getting along with the techie--Haxus--had just gone out the airlock.  Plytox had been there when Sendak transferred to the cruiser, still wearing the cuts and bruises from his...reprimanding...and he’d immediately gotten hold of Sendak’s record.  The whole void-taken thing.  Shame coursed hot under his skin every time he remembered it, hidden only by his fur.

He caught the word  _ monster _ , Plytox’s voice in an undertone, and he dug his claws in tighter.  Something in his chest ached, briefly, before he shut it down.   _ Don’t pick a fight, Sendak.  Stop  _ listening _ to him.  It’s only going to make you angry. _  He couldn’t help it, though--the commissary was quiet, and Haxus’s voice carried clearly through the room, asking questions, demanding answers.  He wasn’t afraid to speak loudly.  Sendak wished he could like him, if only for that boldness.

And then  _ oblate _ dropped, and he knew it was too late.  Something coiled up hot and tight under his sternum.  His appetite was gone.

Good thing he’d been done eating anyway.

He had to look.  The urge itched under his skin like a parasite, gnawing bloody wounds where nobody could see them.  He clenched his fists tighter, resisting.  He couldn’t look.  He had to look.

Sendak raised his eyes as Haxus took a seat.  The newcomer was  _ smaller _ than Sendak had initially thought.  He couldn’t stop looking at Haxus’s hands, long-fingered and delicate and so, so fragile.   _ You could cut yourself on that face _ , Sendak thought.  And yet he looked uncertain, almost vulnerable, brows drawn up and pinching his forehead.

And then Haxus looked up, and their gazes met.  The fiery thing in his chest unfurled, swirling tendrils down his spine and rippling fury in his limbs.  He knew what Haxus was looking at, and it wasn’t him.  The void-taken scar.  That was all  _ anyone _ looked at.  The right side of his face burned like he’d been torn open all over again.  He had to get out of there.  He couldn’t move.  He couldn’t breathe, not with Haxus’s eyes pinning him in place like a sword through his gut.

He wrenched his gaze away and scrambled to his feet, hiding the tremors in his hands by picking up his tray and hurrying to the garbage chute to clear it off.   _ Mistake.  Mistake, mistake, mistake.  So  _ stupid _ to think you wouldn’t get caught.  You always do this shit, screw everything up for yourself.  He hates you now. _

Sendak left the room at a brisk walk and didn’t slow until he reached the training level, didn’t stop until he’d obliterated three training drones and had to pause to catch his breath.  He leaned against the wall, panting, and snatched up a Daibazaali hookblade someone else had neglected to put away.  The weapon glittered in his hands, long and devastatingly sharp, the end hooked to rend flesh and cut through gaps in armor.

He contemplated it only a moment, then called up the next drone.

**Author's Note:**

> Oblate: (from the Latin oblatus--someone who has been offered) originally applied to children who were given by their parents to the monastic life. Has come to mean any layperson who devotes themself to a particular religious order. You can probably guess what it means here just from the context clues above.  
> So, yeah, I guess I'm working on the backstory again now.


End file.
